So I Married A Death Eater
by drcjsnider
Summary: This story is going to be four chapters in the married life of Hermione and Draco. The chapters will not be written in chronological order.
1. Sorting News

Title: Sorting News  
Chapter Title: 1/1  
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy  
Genres: General  
Rating: G  
Warnings: N/A  
Summary: Draco and Hermione await news of which house their oldest child is sorted into.

The tension at the Malfoy breakfast table was palpable. The only sound in the room was the clicking of the silverware on the fine china.

Draco Malfoy sat at the head of the table, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. He had stopped pushing his food around his plate five minutes ago and was eager for everyone else to finish eating so that this interminable meal would finally come to an end. It appeared, however, that his family was determined to draw out breakfast until an owl arrived with news from Hogwarts.

Draco glared at his wife who sat at the other end of the table. It was her fault that everyone was so anxious and uncomfortable. His eyes narrowed further as he gave her his patented "I hold you completely responsible for this mess" glare that caused normal women to swoon and reduced ministry officials to tears. He assumed his wife would go into hysterics at the sight of his glare should she ever bother to look up from her plate. He choose to forget how over the last 15 years, she had become quite adept at laughing at his most frightful expressions or rolling her eyes at his she called his "pitiful intimidation tactics."

The thought of how fearlessly she stood up to him, even when he was being his most obnoxious, did bring a half smile to Draco's face. He thanked fate, his natural charisma, and his dashing good looks for the umpteenth time that he had managed to snag the bravest, most intelligent and most desirable woman in all of Wizarding England for his wife.

"Well it is out of our hands now," Draco's mother, Narcissa Malfoy, spoke breaking the silence. "Where ever the sorting hat puts Dominic is where he'll be and no amount of worrying is going to change that."

Hermione Malfoy smiled faintly at her mother-in-law, before letting her gaze slide sadly to the empty seat on her left where her oldest child, Dominic, had sat just yesterday morning before he'd left for his first year at Hogwarts.

"Of course, you are right my dear," Lucius Malfoy said staidly from his seat to the right of Draco. "Still this is the first time in family history where it wasn't a forgone conclusion that a Malfoy would end up in Slytherin."

"Some traditions are better broken," Hermione responded pointedly to her father-in-law. While she had Lucius had reached a comfortable understanding during the almost two decades she'd been involved with Draco, they still viewed the world from completely different positions.

Wanting to head off what could easily turn into a royal battle between his father and Hermione, Draco quickly entered the conversation. "No matter what house Dominic is sorted into, the boy will prosper. He's outgoing, clever, brave, reliable, shrewd, and almost as good-looking as I was at that age. I have no doubt that he will do the family proud whether he is a Gryffindor, Slytherin, or Ravenclaw."

Hermione flashed her husband a stunning smile grateful that he, unlike Lucius, was at least trying to be neutral in stating his opinion about which house their son would be placed.

"I hope Dom does get placed in Slytherin," commented Draco and Hermione's second oldest child, Cissy Malfoy. Cissy was a precocious ten year old, who had inherited her father's white blond hair, fair coloring, and silver eyes. She was also her grandfather's pet. Cissy had charmed her way into Lucius' heart and managed to wring smiles out of him that the rest of the family had believed gone forever after his incarceration in Azkaban. Although Hermione at times worried that the close relationship between the two would result in Cissy learning every sly and cunning trick Lucius could teach her, Draco knew that the girl had too much of her mother's backbone to just blindly accept whatever her grandfather told her. "It will be most advantageous next year to have my older brother in Slytherin with me."

"You don't know you'll get sorted into Slytherin!" Daniel, the third of Draco and Hermione's children, told his sister.

"Of course she will," Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco replied in unison.

Not at all disturbed by the forcefulness of the three Slithering alumni at the table, Daniel squared his shoulders and stated boldly, "Well, I want to be in Gryffindor."

Draco smiled at the boy, who not only had Hermione's brown curly hair and eyes, but also her strong will. There was no denying that even at seven-years-old, he was the most determined and self-assured Malfoy in the room.

"I wanna be a Giff-en-do too, mama," stated five year old Chelsea, the Malfoy's youngest child.

Hermione reached over and gave the little girl's hand a squeeze. "It is much too early for you to be worried about such matters. Besides, what house you are in is not nearly as important as the principles you choose to live by, the talents you develop and your loyalty to friends."

Draco gazed fondly down the table at his wife, impressed for the millionth time at her goodness and fairness. What he could not understand, however, was her continued naivety about the realities of life and the importance of making the right type of connections - connections that started while one was in school. Before he could impressed upon Chelsea that houses DID matter and that it would be unacceptable for a Malfoy to end up in Hufflepuff, an owl arrived at the dining room window.

Crossing the room, Draco opened the window and allowed the bird to sit on the inside ledge. He removed a small parchment from the owl's leg and raised one eyebrow at Hermione, silently inquiring if she wanted to open the letter.

Hermione shook her head and said softly, "You read it."

As Draco returned to his seat, the eyes of every member of the family followed him. He calmly unrolled the parchment and scanned its first few lines. He looked down the length of the table at his wife, made a little grimace and then stated firmly, "Slytherin."

While Lucius and Cissy shared a smile and wink at the news, the rest of the table turned to look at how Hermione was taking the announcement. She and Dominic were exceptionally close, sharing many of the same interests and inclinations. Draco watched her give a shaky little smile to the family and mummer something incoherent that was meant to pass for satisfaction. He knew that Hermione had been hoping that Dominic would get sorted into Gryffindor, rather than into the house that had made so many of her school years difficult.

Narcissa, who also knew Hermione was deeply disappointed, rounded up the children to give her daughter-in-law some private time. "Cissy, Daniel, Chelsea, let us go to the library so you can each write your brother a note of congratulations. Lucius, you come too," she demanded of her husband, who had settled back in his chair, ready to launch into a soliloquy about the benefits of Dominic being in Slytherin. "Chelsea will need help with her letter," she replied to his inquiring gaze.

Lucius looked like he wanted to protest, but a forceful stare from Narcissa, accompanied by a tip of her head toward Hermione, led him to push his chair back and follow the children out of the room. He did manage, however, to give Draco's shoulder a congratulatory squeeze before he left.

Alone in the dining room with Hermione, Draco watched as her bottom lip trembled and tears began to slide down her cheeks. "Baby..." he soothed, getting up from his chair and going to her end of the table. When Hermione let out a big hiccupping sob, Draco gathered her into his arms, sat down in her chair, and pulled her onto his lap.

"I was so sure," Hermione cried, burying her face in Draco's neck, "that Dom would end up in Gryffindor."

"Shush, sweetheart," Draco whispered into his distraught wife's ear, "everything is going to be all right. This won't change anything about your relationship with Dominic."

As Draco stroked Hermione's hair, a crackling sound came from the fireplace and all at once Harry Potter's head appeared in the flames. Catching sight of the crying Hermione, he gave Draco a knowing looked and asked quickly, "Bad news then?"

"Dominic was sorted into Slithering," Draco replied, causing Hermione to release another soft sob.

"Oi Hermione," Harry commented, "it isn't that bad. Slytherin is much different now than it was when we were at Hogwarts."

Hermione sniffed loudly, and then turned in her husband's arms to look at her best friend. "That is easy for you to say Harry. I suspect Abby was sorted into Gryffindor."

Harry had the good sense to look a little abashed. "Sure she was. But with Gin and I both being in Gryffindor and her older brother already in that house, it only makes sense. Dominic had that whole divided house loyalty factor working against him."

At these words, Hermione's eyes once again filled with tears. She buried her face in Draco's robes with a cry that sounded something like, "My poor baby."

"Thank you so much for that insightful analysis, Potter," Draco growled. While Draco and Harry had reached a truce years ago and now shared something that passed for friendship because of Hermione, Draco still found the "Hero of the Wizarding World" unbelievably dense at times.

"Sorry mate," Harry blushed. "I'll leave you be now."

"Potter," Draco stopped him before he could pull his head out of the fire. "Where did Weasley's brat get put?"

A look of amusement crossed Harry's face as he told Draco, "Hufflepuff."

Draco let go a bark of laughter. "You owe me 10 galleons!"

"I'll pay you at the poker game Thursday night," Harry said with a grin, before ending the floo call.

Draco rocked his wife until she stopped sniffling. "I'm sorry for being so silly," Hermione blushed sheepishly.

Although Draco would tuck the memory of this morning away to tease his wife with in later years, right now he just wanted to make sure she was feeling better. "He wrote you a note."

"Dominic?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, it is at the bottom of the announcement parchment. Would you like me to leave you alone to read it?"

Hermione gave him her first real smile of the morning and nodded silently.

As Draco left the room, Hermione spread the parchment out on the breakfast table.

_Mum, _

Please don't be upset that I got sorted into Slytherin. I must have sat on the stool for over 30 seconds as the hat debated back and forth with itself whether to put me in Gryffindor or Slytherin. As I sat there listening to it, I remembered your stories of being picked on by Slytherins and how unfairly you were treated by them just because of your parentage. I never want anyone else to go through a similar experience, so I asked the hat to put me in Slytherin. If Slytherin House is going to really change for the better, it has to be done from the inside, and I want to be part of that change.

I hope you understand my reasoning. Lots of love to you and the rest of the family,

Dom

When Hermione finished reading the letter, she pressed her hands to heart, leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Smiling broadly, she determined to never again be disappointed that Dominic was not a Gryffindor.


	2. Dinner Time

Title: So I Married a Death Eater  
Chapter Title: Dinner Time  
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy  
Genres: Romance, Humour, General  
Rating: R  
Warnings: Sexual References  
Summary: This story is going to be four chapters in the married life of Hermione and Draco. The chapters will not be written in chronological order. Chapter 2 - Dinner Time: Draco and Hermione try to sort out their differences about dining together as a married couple.

When Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger had gotten married after the defeat of Voldemort, they had moved into the Malfoy family residence in Bath. On the first night in their new home, they had dinner at the formal dining room table. Draco sat at the head of the table, while Hermione sat opposite him at the other end. Six empty chairs stretched between them.

"This is stupid," Hermione complained. "Why can't I sit next to you?"

"As I've explain before Granger, wizard etiquette requires that a man and his wife sit across from each other on the short ends of a rectangular dining room table," her new husband informed her.

Draco had loosened up considerably since switching sides in the war, but he was still a social snob. "But what if I want to give you a kiss during dinner?" Hermione asked him in a manner that barely concealed her frustration.

Draco raised one eyebrow and smirked at the thought of his new bride being so attracted to him that she was unable to make it through an entire meal without kissing him, but nevertheless replied in a stuffy manner, "Then you wait until whatever dinner course we are eating is over, push your chair back from the table, stand up, walk down here, kiss me, and then return to your seat."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. The seating situation was unacceptable, good wizarding manners be damned. She knew, however, that she wouldn't be able to bully Draco into agreeing with her. Rich, good-looking, arrogant, and now a war hero, Draco Malfoy was not a man who could be intimidated, even by his wife. Instead, Hermione would have to accomplish her desire using cunning and stealth, two Slytherin traits she had picked up from her husband during the years they had dated. All she needed to do now was to come up with plan that would show Draco how inconvenient it would be to sit far away from her.

The second night the newly married Malfoy's ate dinner at their large rectangular table; Hermione's "Get Draco to Realize the Advantages of Sitting Close to His Wife at Dinner" plan had already been set in motion. Early that morning, she had met with the cooking staff to ask that a special menu of tasty and erotic foods be prepared for dinner. In the afternoon, she had gone to a spa with Lavender Brown to get her hair coifed in a sexy style. Right before dinner, she had put on a short, tight outfit that she hoped would get her husband's blood pumping. Hermione then entered the dining room 5 minutes late, knowing that it would frustrate Draco and give her his full attention.

Just as she suspected, as soon as Draco heard her enter the room he growled out without bothering to turn around and look at her, "Granger, is your watch broken? Dinner was supposed to start at 7. The food is prepared so that ..." Draco's words trailed away once Hermione's backside came into view as she walked past him to take her seat. A wolfish grin spread across his face as he caught sight of a black garter underneath her flirty, short skirt.

He was just about to make some snarky comment about her bum, when Hermione turned around to sit at her end of the table and he got an eyeful cleavage. "New top?"

Hermione blushed slightly and nodded. Her blouse was silky, black, and sleeveless. It also had a deep v-cut that revealed far more of her chest than she was typically comfortable showing. 'Buck up', she thought to herself. 'You faced Voldemort and the worst the Death-Eaters could throw at you. Surely, you have enough guts to seduce your husband.'

"Do you think it is too immodest?" she asked innocently, batting her eyelashes in the way she had seen Lavender and Parvati do at singles' bars. "I could go get a sweater." She made to stand up.

"No, don't," Draco spoke quickly, clearly not wanting her to cover up and take away his dinner show. "You look lovely. Did you do something different to your hair?"

"You're so sweet to notice," Hermione flirted, reaching up and touching her curls.

Draco smiled at his wife, but his mind was racing. He knew that something was up. You didn't grow up as the son of Lucius Malfoy, become Prince of the Slytherins, and survive double-crossing Voldemort without being able to recognize when someone was playing you. What he wasn't sure of yet, however, was exactly what Hermione was hoping to accomplish. "I find the entire effect quite stimulating."

"I hoped you would," Hermione smiled enticingly at him.

Draco was about to probe deeper into Hermione's behavior, when a house elf appeared at the table carrying a first course of fresh fruit.

As Draco spooned some grapes, melons, and pineapple onto his plate, Hermione plucked a strawberry from platter, dipped it in cream and slowly bit off the tip. Draco looked up at her, just as she was licking the juice off her lips. She briefly closed her eyes and made a little mew of pleasure. Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his cock starting to twitch, as he recalled that Hermione had made a similar sound the night before as he had stroked her thighs right before they made love.

When Hermione opened her eyes, she saw that Draco was staring at her intently. "The strawberries are ripe," she told him biting off another section of the fruit. Draco nodded, his face impassive. 'Was it working?' Hermione wondered. Was she getting to him at all? Maybe it was time to pull out the big guns, aka her breasts.

When Draco looked back down to his plate, Hermione let her napkin slip off her lap and land to the side of the table. "Oh, shoot," she muttered, just loud enough to cause Draco to look up. As he did, Hermione leaned over and reached for her napkin. Draco's eyes grew round at how her movement caused her full breasts to almost spill out of her top. He shifted in his chair, trying unsuccessfully to reason away his growing erection.

Draco was not a prude and he had no hard and fast rules about where or when it was appropriate to shag one's lover. In fact, soon after he and Hermione had begun dating, they'd had sex on the kitchen table at Number 12 Grimmauld Place when they were supposed to be cleaning up after supper.

Under normal circumstances, if Draco got a raging hard-on while in the dining room, he would unbutton his trousers and convince Hermione to come straddle his hips or he'd carry the witch up to their bedroom and shag her until they were both exhausted. However, this was not normal circumstances. It was obvious that Hermione had some kind of secret agenda in place and Draco would be damned if a Gryffindor (even one intelligent enough to marry a Malfoy) would dupe him.

So instead of giving in to his growing desire, Draco narrowed his eyes at his wife and attempted to appear unaffected by her efforts.

"Are you okay, darling?" she asked him, faking a look of concern. Hermione knew that Draco liked to consider himself unreadable and enigmatic. Indeed, throughout most of Hogwarts and early in his Order membership, she had been completely at a loss for exactly what the sneaky blond was thinking. But after having worked so closely with him during the war and having dated him for three years, she had picked up some of the slight physical signs of what he was thinking. For example, when he was angry he ground his back teeth together. When he was bored, he tapped his left foot. And when aroused, he found it nearly impossible to sit or stand still. "You are a little flushed."

"I am quite certain that I am not," he replied condescendingly. He unknowingly ruined the affect by shifting again in his chair.

Hermione hid her smirk by taking a sip of water. 'You've hooked him girl,' she thought with satisfaction. 'Now you just have to reel him in.'

"I read something interesting today," Hermione began conversationally.

"Really? You must tell me all about it," Draco replied calmly, especially in light of the fact that what he really wanted to do was a victory dance, or leap out of his seat to high-five all the house elves, or point both his index fingers down the length of the table at Hermione and shout 'In your face, Granger!' Draco was so exultant because he had just won whatever game his dear wife was playing. The moment she launched into an undoubtedly tedious and unnecessarily detailed description of whatever the fuck she read today Draco would once again be in control of the situation. While he loved how passionate Hermione was about new ideas and innovative concepts, there was little that could kill an erection faster than one of her treatises on the general lack of organization of the Ministry or werewolf rights.

"I started to thumb through the book that Gregory Goyle got us for our wedding," she informed him.

Draco choked on his coffee. Greg had never gotten beyond thinking of Hermione as anything other than a know-it-all swot. Despite Draco's repeated assurances that he and Hermione had a very active and satisfying intimate life, since they got engaged Greg had fretted that Draco would never again experience sexual pleasure. Therefore, as a wedding gift Greg had bought them a kind of beginners _Kama Sutra_ entitled – _Hundreds of Sexual Positions for the Naive and Newly Initiated_. Draco had thought he'd hidden it away deep enough in the manor's library to spare Greg a painful hexing from an irritated Hermione. Apparently, he'd been unsuccessful. "Oh, see anything interesting in there?" he asked, sounding a bit strained. He then leaned forward in his chair slightly, trying to ease the pressure on his tense cock.

Hermione leaned forward as well, causing Draco to briefly close his eyes to prevent his brain from going on cleavage melt-down. "I thought the section on wanking your partner in public to be especially enlightening," she teased.

'Enough pussy-footing around', Draco decided. "Granger, just what the hell are you up to?"

Hermione opened her eyes widely and attempted an innocent 'who-me' expression. "Can't a woman get dressed up for her husband and offer to help him 'jerk-off' at the dinner table without being victimized by his suspicions?"

Even as Draco's cock jumped in anticipation, the former Slytherin couldn't believe how awful she was at trying to manipulate him. His cock jerked again. Okay, maybe she was only awful at _hiding_ the fact she was trying to manipulate him.

"Sorry to seem so distrustful, darling," he told her in a tone that said he wasn't sorry at all and he still didn't trust her. "What exactly would you like to do?"

"I'd like to reach my hand down my husband's pants and stroke his cock until he comes," she stated blushing slightly. "Unfortunately," she gave a little pout, "I'm sitting too far away to touch him."

And with these words, Draco understood that Hermione's entire performance tonight had been to drive him wild so that he would ignore societies' rules and seat his wife next him at the dinner table. He now had to decide whether to stand by wizarding conventions or yield to Hermione's cunning ploy. It really was no contest.

"_Accio_ Hermione's chair," Draco commanded loudly with a flick of his wand. The spell immediately drew the chair and the witch who occupied it to Draco's side. At the sounds of his zipper being pulled down, Draco decided to send Greg a huge basket of chocolate frogs as a thank-you gift for the wedding present.

The third night Hermione ate dinner at the Malfoy's Manor House in Bath she discovered that Draco had transfigured the rectangular dining room table into a circle. At her inquiring gaze and questioning smile, Draco informed her that there was nothing in Wizarding etiquette that prevented a man and his wife from sitting next to each other at a round table. Hermione had been so pleased with this resolution to their disagreement, that she rewarded Draco with another public wanking demonstration culled from the pages of Gregory Goyle's book.

In addition to the physical benefits of the new seating arrangement, sitting next to her husband at dinner provided Hermione with many excellent long-term consequences she had never expected. For example, the first time Ron Weasley attended a dinner party at the newly married Malfoy's residence, Hermione was sitting close enough to Draco to kick him in the shin when he started to insult her best friend. Likewise, when the couple entertained a group of Draco's Slytherin friends, who started berating Gryffindors, she was able to stomp on Draco instep until he changed the subject.

Unfortunately, seven years later, when Draco, Hermione and their children moved into the Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire with Lucius and Narcissa, both the elder Malfoy's had been shocked at the idea of the young couple sitting next to each other at the dining room table. "Darling," Narcissa informed Hermione patiently, "Wizarding etiquette dictates that a husband and his wife sit across from each other on the short ends of a rectangular dining room table."

When Hermione had tentatively suggested transfiguring the rectangular table into a round table, Lucius had snorted, "Impossible. The Malfoy dining room must be able to accommodate dozens of guests. There is no way that a circular table would meet that requirement."

Hermione finally acquiesced to the seating arrangement, but warned Lucius and Narcissa that she was used to being able to gain the attention of her husband during dinner and she would not be put off by the distance separating them. They agreed immediately, but had little to no understanding of what Hermione meant. They soon figured it out, however, when at the next meal as Draco and his father discussed new Ministry regulations concerning Goblin rights in a manner Hermione found offensive, a dinner roll sailed through the air and hit Lucius on the side of the head.

All eyes at the table turned toward Hermione with horror. "Excuse me Lucius," she stated serenely. "Could you please kick Draco on the shin for me?"

All eyes now turned toward Lucius. A moment or two of silence followed before Draco let out a loud, "Ouch!" from the head of the table.

"Thank-you," Hermione graciously smiled at her father-in-law.

The next time that Hermione came down for a meal in the dining room, she found the table still rectangular with her seat still at the opposite end from Draco. Lucius, however, informed her privately before the meal began that the house elves had charmed the table, so that when Hermione needed to get Draco's attention she just needed to give the table leg nearest her a kick and the corresponding leg near Draco would knock into his shin.

Hermione nodded her acceptance with this solution and the expanded Malfoy family settled down to dinner time.

The End


	3. The Hair War

Title: So I Married a Death Eater  
Chapter Title: The Hair War  
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy  
Genres: Humour, General  
Rating: R  
Warnings: Sexual References  
Summary: Hermione and Draco move into Malfoy Manor. Now Hermione and Lucius need to come to an understanding about her obligations as a Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy moved his wife and three children into the Malfoy family manor two months after his father was released from Azkaban. Although he had sworn to never again live under the same roof as Lucius Malfoy, his mother's pleas for support and his father's seemingly genuine rejection of his old pureblood beliefs brought Draco home.

As much as Draco had to argue with himself over the move, it had been even more difficult for him to convince his wife that the move would be good for their family. In fact, it was only after Hermione had found herself pregnant with the couple's fourth child, and Narcissa had promised to assist in the education and nurturing of the older children that the former Gryffindor had agreed to live in the manor on a trial basis. Draco suspected that Hermione's knowledge of the destruction of Lucius' wand by the Ministry of Magic probably had more to do with her agreement to move than her pregnancy.

During Draco and Hermione's first month at the manor, everyone had walked on egg shells trying to maintain peace and the pretense of good-will. Nevertheless, many things were awkward. Draco took over the duties of head-of-the-household, in addition to the responsibility of managing the family finances that he'd been forced to assume during his sixth year at Hogwarts. The increased obligation toward maintaining the Malfoy family's social, political, and economic status often put Draco in a foul mood, especially towards his wife, who was the only person he ever completely let his guard down around. Moreover, everyone could see how tense Lucius became when relegated to the background as Draco sat at the head of the table or was the first to receive guests at formal dinners.

On the other hand, Hermione, who had no desire to assume Narcissa's hostess duties, was pushed by her mother-in-law to learn all the details of maintaining and running the manor. The brown-eyed Gryffindor eventually took to avoiding Narcissa in an effort to stave off a lecture about the proper way to store linens for the winter or why it was important that the everyday silver be kept separate from the Sunday brunch silver. Narcissa, meanwhile, developed a tick in her right cheek whenever she saw Hermione approaching a house elf. The elegant blonde had already gotten two migraines dealing with sobbing and clingy elves, whom Hermione had offered to either pay or set free.

Perhaps worst of all, was Hermione's and Lucius's inability to carry on a conversation about anything since each of them was concerned that any comment he or she made, whether it be about Quidditch, Ministry politics, or Muggle popular culture, would be so offensive to the other that a row would break out and ultimately make it impossible for them to continue to live under the same roof. Hermione cared too much about Draco, and Lucius too much about regaining the respect and love of his wife and son, to risk such an altercation. Therefore, rarely did either of them say anything beyond 'good morning' or 'good night' in the presence of the other.

The strained smiles that the adults wore around each other and the constant tension brought on by everyone trying to be on their best behavior was bound to eventually come crashing down in a spectacular fashion. And crash it did in what is now referred to in Malfoy family history as the "Hair War."

The first day of the Hair War began on a morning like any other. All the Malfoys gathered for breakfast in the morning room. Draco and Lucius sat at one end of the table discussing business matters and scanning the Daily Prophet for interesting information while, at the other end, Narcissa quizzed Hermione about the family's social calendar.

"Darling," Narcissa spoke to Hermione, "I do hope you'll be able to accompany me to the beauty salon this afternoon to get your hair done before the benefit ball tonight."

Hermione glanced at her planner before replying, "Impossible. I am completely booked today with S.P.E.W. work. I'll be lucky to make it back to the manor in time to dress for the event. I'll just throw my hair up in a bun before we go."

Narcissa gave a tense little smile and then looked at Draco, silently begging him to intervene. It was simply unacceptable for the wife of a Malfoy to show up at one of the largest benefits of the year looking unkempt.

"Hermione," Draco began cautiously, after catching his mother's eye, "couldn't you reschedule one meeting today? I'm sure we could bring someone here to do your hair so you don't have to spend all afternoon at the salon."

"No, I can not," Hermione replied in frustration. The weeks of biting her tongue and being accommodating had rapidly unraveled her patience. "I never see you canceling business meetings to get your hair done."

Draco raised an eyebrow at her growingly waspish tongue. Although he knew better than to push her, he too had become tired of ignoring the growing tension. "Of course I don't run off to hair appointments," he smiled silkily. His tone was even, but there was an underlying edge of steel that served as a warning to most of his acquaintances to back off; of course, most of his acquaintances weren't as talented or scary as his wife. "However, my hair isn't quite as temperamental as yours."

"Well, if my hair is so offensive to you and your family, then I will just skip the benefit tonight and stay home with the children."

Narcissa immediately reached over and patted Hermione's hand. "Oh no darling, you must come. There is nothing wrong with your hair."

Despite her attempt to intervene, Draco and Hermione were still glaring at each other, neither close to backing down. Narcissa was afraid that at any moment one of them would say something which would lead to their first real fight since moving into the manor and probably force them to completely cancel their attendance at the ball.

Recognizing his wife's concern, Lucius told everyone seated at the table, "I'll do her hair."

Hermione dropped her fork, Draco's eyes grew wide, and Narcissa uttered a little gasp.

"What?" Lucius asked, reveling a bit in the reaction he was getting. Malfoys did _so_ enjoy being the center of attention. "I'll have you all know that I'm very skilled with beauty magic."

"I thought your plea-bargain with the Ministry required you to give up magic in order to gain a shorter sentence in Azkaban?" Hermione questioned. She had been so surprised at her father-in-law's offer that she didn't even bother to monitor her words for the offense they might give.

Lucius gave her a smirk that reminded her so much of Draco that she was left momentarily breathless. "My deal with the Ministry required me to give up my wand. They said nothing about wandless magic."

"Beauty spells?" Draco asked in a stunned tone.

Raising an eyebrow at his son, Lucius replied with a question of his own. "Did you really think I spent a decade in Azkaban sitting in my own filth, boy? Sweet Merlin, I might have been in prison, but I was still a Malfoy; it was going to take a lot more than Dementors for me to forget my family's prominence and wallow in the muck and dirt of that establishment."

Narcissa leaned over and lightly grasped his hand. The look she was giving him reminded everyone at the table that the marriage of the older couple almost four decades ago had been a love match. "Oh darling, wandless magic! And you are willing to help Hermione?"

"But of course, dear. You know that I would do anything for the family," Lucius informed her in a sincere manner.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,' Hermione thought to herself. She really did not want Lucius uttering beauty or any other types of spells near her. But given the rapt looks of admiration Draco and Narcissa were giving Lucius, Hermione knew she would appear ungrateful, unforgiving, and vindictive if she turned down the offer. She would need to find some other excuse to refuse his help. "How long would it take?"

"How long do you normally take doing your hair?" Lucius asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Damn, he is good,' Hermione grumbled in her mind. He was obviously going to say he could do her hair in whatever time frame she desired. If she told the truth, which was that, besides washing and casting a drying spell, she typically spent less than five minutes on her hair, everyone at the table would be shocked, but if she lied and said she spent longer, then it might be harder for her to turn down Lucius's offer. "Um… well, I often spend less than fifteen minutes on it."

"Well, that explains a lot," Draco joked from the head of the table, earning himself a death glare from his wife.

"I'm sure I can do something that will look acceptable in fifteen minutes," Lucius informed Hermione astutely.

Hermione gave him a tight little smile in return. "Oh good, guess I'll see you tonight before the benefit then."

-0-0-0-

Hermione had an awful day. She'd attended four meetings at the Ministry of Magic in which no progress on elf rights had been made. She'd skipped lunch to give a speech on magical rights to an international witches' organization. She had then spent a fruitless afternoon attempting to convince the wizarding law firm of Nott, Bulstrom, and Zabini to do pro-bono work for S.P.E.W. She was now thirty minutes late getting home and had a raging headache.

The moment she stepped out of the Floo and into the sitting room of her and Draco's bed-chamber, she knew her day was going to get even worse. Sitting on two identical love-seats, wearing their black dress robes, and discussing some matter quietly, were Draco and Lucius. Draco looked up at her and snapped, "You're late."

"I know," she growled back. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Lucius. Let me just jump in the shower, and I'll be with you in a flash."

Lucius nodded, his face unreadable. "Don't dry your hair," he told her as she headed out of the room. "It's much easier to style with magic when wet."

"Okay," Hermione replied, slipping into the bathroom. Before she could shut the door, however, Draco walked in behind her. He closed the door and cast a silencing charm on it.

"You couldn't cut short a meeting this one fucking time, could you?" Draco hissed at her.

Hermione ignored him and began stripping off her clothes. She waved her wand toward the shower turning on the water.

"Do you realize what this is like for him?" Draco asked, anger continuing to infuse his voice. "He's been denied the use of his wand, he feels like a guest in his own house, and when he offers to help you by performing some of the only magic he is still capable of, you don't even appreciate it enough to be here on time!"

"I said I was sorry," Hermione shouted back, before jumping into the shower. She turned the temperature up. For some reason, she wanted the water close to scalding.

"Well, you know what, Granger, sometimes sorry just isn't enough."

Hermione turned up the volume of the water hoping to drown out his voice. She could tell that Draco was still talking, but she could no longer make out what he was saying, which more than fine with her. When she turned off the water, Draco was still lecturing her on proper etiquette and manners. She wrapped a towel around her body, stepped out of the shower and headed toward the closet without glancing at her husband.

"Granger, are you listening to me?" he demanded.

"Yes," she responded tiredly.

"Well, you don't look like you understand-"

"Malfoy," she interrupted, her temper finally breaking to the surface. "This isn't easy for me, you know! The last time Lucius cast a spell on me was in the Department of Mysteries when he was leading Death Eaters in an attack against Harry. My stomach has been churning all day about having to sit virtually helplessly in front of him and trust that he really has changed his views about blood purity. So you'll just have to excuse me if I've failed to live up to the expectation of proper behavior toward one's hopefully reformed father-in-law as outlined in _Manners for Muggle-Borns_. Now bugger off so that I can finish dressing and not make Lucius wait any longer!"

Draco looked apologetic. "Hermione-"

"Out!"

-0-0-0-

Less than five minutes later, wearing a black ball gown and sitting in a high-backed chair, Hermione tensely waited for Lucius to style her hair. She cleared her throat uncomfortably and attempted to make light conversation. "You know Lucius, I prefer a rather simple style."

"That, my dear, is apparent," he replied evenly.

Hermione couldn't see his face and therefore wasn't sure from his tone whether he was being sarcastic or not. She glanced around the dressing room nervously wishing that she hadn't ordered Draco to go downstairs. His presence would have given her a little more confidence that she'd emerge from this experience unscathed.

"Relax, Hermione," Lucius told her lightly laying his hands on her shoulders. "I have no desire to either return to Azkaban or deprive my grandchildren of their mother."

Hermione tried not to shiver, but it was difficult because the long-haired blond still scared her. "Well," she said, croaking slightly, "that is reassuring."

Lucius chuckled, and Hermione felt her hair fall down around her face.

Gasping, she reached up to touch her hair and discovered that it now lay in straight layers down her back. "How did you do that?" she questioned, amazed because Lucius hadn't uttered a word.

"Non-verbal magic," he replied, as Hermione began to feel sections of her hair dry.

"Non-verbal, wandless magic is very difficult," she exclaimed, impressed in spite of herself.

"Well, Dementors don't really like having people uttering spells even from their cells," he replied, sounding a bit amused at her reaction. "In fact, they get down right nasty about it."

Hermione felt her hair being pulled off her neck.

"Close your eyes," Lucius commanded.

The brunette complied even though her stomach wanted to rebel. She felt some sort of mist settle over her head. "What was that?"

"Hush, girl. I'm trying to concentrate."

'Still a bully,' Hermione thought. 'It would serve him right, if I launched into a monologue on Muggle hair care products.' Nevertheless, she sat still and silent until Lucius informed her that he was done.

Standing up, she turned around to look into a mirror. Her hair had been swept up into a sleek French twist. Although it looked lovely, Hermione also thought it made her appear too formal, too unapproachable, too pure-blooded. "Thank you, Lucius. It is wonderful."

Her father-in-law gave her a tiny nod and held out his arm to lead her downstairs. It was the first time the two had ever touched. Hermione knew that there would be no magical reaction when someone fouled by the Dark Mark touched a Mudblood – she and Draco had demonstrated that fairly effectively. Yet Lucius wasn't Draco. Lucius had tortured Muggle-borns; he had killed men and women like her. The brown-eyed woman took a deep breath and reminded herself that he'd been rehabilitated, been questioned by Aurors, and that he wanted to regain the love and respect of his family. So Hermione stood a bit straighter and attempted to smile a bit more sincerely as they headed toward the foyer.

At the bottom of the stairs stood Draco and Narcissa. Narcissa clapped her hands together at the sight of Hermione. "Oh, Lucius," she exclaimed, "You are a miracle worker! She looks just like the wife of a Malfoy should!"

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. 'Miracle worker?! Just what the hell was that supposed to mean?' She almost said something that would have really disrupted family harmony, but the unreadable expression on her husband's face caught her attention. He quirked one eyebrow up and took her hand from his father's arm. He kissed her lips softly. "You are beautiful, Granger."

She leaned into him and whispered, "You better not be getting off on some sick high-society, pure-blood, country-club fantasy."

He smirked in response. "If I am, I'll never let you know." Draco then turned to Lucius. "Thank you, Father, for aiding Hermione this evening."

Lucius responded with a look that might have resembled satisfaction if his countenance had not spent its entire life schooled in looking arrogant and proud. "As I've told you before, son, I'll do anything for the family."

The family's attendance at the benefit was a smashing success. Narcissa was the consummate socialite, making sure that everyone in attendance realized that the Malfoys were resuming their rightful role in society. Lucius shunned the limelight. After dancing once with his wife, he retired to the card room to play baccarat with his former business associates. Hermione and Draco, on the other hand, spent half of their time mingling, Hermione trying to raise awareness and support for freeing house elves and Draco focused on flattering his Ministry contacts. They spent the other half of their time dancing together, flirting with each other, and generally acting like newlyweds rather than a pair nearing their 10th wedding anniversary.

Upon returning home, both the older and younger Malfoy couples were feeling extremely pleased with themselves. Although Hermione had no idea what her mother and father-in-law had planned, she was certain that Draco was intent on shagging her silly for the rest of the evening. As she contemplated this lovely idea, she felt her hair suddenly fall to her shoulders. Narcissa and Draco had already made their way upstairs, so Hermione looked around the foyer for Lucius. She arched her eyebrows at him.

"It can be difficult for some witches to release a wizard's beauty charms," he told her pompously.

Determined to make sure that Lucius did not take further liberties with her person, and drained after weeks of tension, she replied more harshly than she intended, "I appreciate your help tonight. It made Narcissa and Draco very happy. In the future, however, I will be solely in charge of determining how I wear my hair, I will fix it myself, and only I will release any beauty charms in use."

Something flashed in Lucius' eyes before he replied to Hermione's outburst. "Impossible."

"Impossible?! Who are you to say impossible? It is my hair; I can do whatever I want with it!"

"Don't be obtuse, girl. When you married into the Malfoy family, you assumed an obligation to uphold certain standards of appearance and behavior. Narcissa and Draco have obviously been too indulgent. It is high time that you were reined in. Controlling your appearance from now on will be your first priority. If you are unable or unwilling to manage this yourself, another family member will take care of it for you.

Hermione could not believe what he was saying. "I do not owe the Malfoy name a thing. I owe my husband my love, loyalty, and devotion, but I will not be dictated to by out-of-date, pure-blood conventions. Don't underestimate my magical abilities, Lucius. I'm not the same fifteen year-old-girl you faced at the Ministry of Magic."

"Are you issuing a challenge?" he asked silkily.

"It is information you need to know before you try to order me to conform to your notions of respectability."

"Your advice is most generous; but I will follow my own counsel."

Hermione's eyes opened wide. Lucius was deliberately provoking her. Perhaps he was testing her will or dedication. Well, if he wanted to push her, he would quickly discover that she could push back. She would give him a taste of what the smartest witch of her generation could dish out. "As you wish, Lucius," she replied, inclining her head slightly before ascending the stairs to her bedroom.

On the second day of the Hair War, Lucius fired the first shot. As Hermione sat eating her breakfast, she felt her hair fall down around her face in straightened strands. She muttered, "_Finite Incantatem_," and it curled back up. This same sequence occurred 47 times before Lucius's oatmeal turned over into his lap, and he was forced to excuse himself from the table. Draco and Narcissa had simply sat in stunned silence as the entire skirmish unfolded.

On the third day of the Hair War, Lucius and Hermione passed each other on the stairs right before she Apparated to Diagon Alley to shop for new robes. It wasn't until she dropped into Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes to chat with George that she discovered that her father-in-law had magically bobbed her hair.

On the fourth day of the Hair War, Lucius did not see Hermione at all. Nevertheless, he somehow spent the entire day with his hair in pig- tails.

As the Hair War progressed, several innocent bystanders were caught in the crossfire. Cissy, Draco and Hermione's only child with naturally straight hair, ended up hexed with locks so kinky that Narcissa had to Floo the child to Paris to see a wizarding beauty specialist. Dominic and Daniel, their other two children, both ended up completely bald. It wasn't until Draco spent two weeks with shockingly-pink hair, however, that he decided to intervene and arrange a cease-fire. He approached Hermione first, hoping that she would be the most reasonable of the pair.

"Darling," he beseeched her, "you must end this now before there is a winner and a loser. If there is ever going to be real peace in this household, there can't be a victor and the vanquished. There must be a balance of power between yourself and my father."

"You are speaking to the wrong person, Malfoy," she informed him. "I have not been the aggressor in this situation. I am using primarily defensive spells against your father's clearly belligerent spells."

Draco wanted to point out that giving Lucius a temporary Mohawk was not defensive a charm; however, he didn't think it would be advisable given her current state of agitation. "Perhaps, if you wrote a list of peace terms…"

"Peace terms? Peace terms? You are nutters if you think I am going to acquiesce to any of his stupid 'do it for the family' beauty stipulations. I will only accept an unconditional surrender from your father!"

"Hermione-"

"Don't start with me. This isn't up for discussion."

"Fine," Draco ground out, turning on his heel and leaving their bedroom. Although he had just developed a pounding headache, he sought out his father and begged him to end the conflict with Hermione. Lucius, unfortunately, proved to be just as stubborn as his daughter-in-law.

"It is high time your wife learned to behave like a Malfoy," Lucius responded to Draco's entreaty to end the war.

Dropping his head into his hands, Draco wanted to wring his father's neck. If anything, the Malfoys could benefit from acting a bit more like Hermione. However, he knew that Lucius would not embrace that sentiment without proof. "She's brilliant, Father. I don't think you'll be happy with the consequences if you take this further."

Raising an impeccably well-groomed eyebrow, the older blond responded dismissively. "Either your judgment is fading with your increasing responsibilities, or you are being unnecessarily chivalrous in protecting your wife."

Draco matched his father's arrogant look. "Or maybe, I'm being unnecessarily thoughtful about protecting you."

Lucius just waved his hand in dismissal. "I do not need to be protected from your wife."

"At least you'll never be able to claim you weren't warned."

"Yes, yes. I've been alerted to the danger. Now go and attend to your normal business activities. I have a campaign to plan."

Draco left Lucius alone, all sympathy for his father's upcoming comeuppance gone.

On day thirty-four of the Hair War, Hermione went nuclear. Up until that that day, she had been fighting beauty charm with beauty charm, glamour with glamour. She had played fair and attempted to show Lucius what it meant to battle a Gryffindor, but he had taken things too far on day thirty-three when he had glamoured Hermione's hair into the same color and style of Pansy Parkinson's. If that wasn't bad enough, he had managed to magically charm her and Draco's wedding portrait so that it reflected her current hairstyle causing Dominic to ask, "When was Poppa married to Ms. Pansy?"

Hermione had seethed the rest of the day and into the night. Draco had actually been concerned that in her anger she might turn on _him_ as a stand-in for Lucius.

"Your father is absolutely the most loathsome man I know!" she huffed in the dark, long after midnight.

"You used to say that I was the most loathsome man you knew," Draco reminded her. "Should I be jealous?"

"Malfoy, be serious! Your father has left our son with the impression that you were once married to Parkinson. What will he do next? Actually turn me into his idealized version of the perfect little wife for the self-appointed wizarding aristocracy? Give me the looks, speech, walk, and dress of someone who has been raised with no other ambition than to simper her way through social functions without tripping?"

"Luv, you have completely misread my father. He doesn't want Pansy or any other social debutante as a daughter-in-law except to the extent that they would recognize his pre-eminence and submit to his dictates."

"Recognize his pre-eminence? Submit to his dictates? Well, his bollocks will shrivel up and fall off long before I submit to his arrogant, pompous, over-bearing decrees," she hissed.

"Then I suppose you better demonstrate to him exactly why he should back off and acquire a healthy respect for your abilities."

There was a long silence, before Hermione finally replied, "He is not going to like it."

"No, but he's a fast learner. If you can be ruthless now, you'll never be in a similar power struggle with him again."

Hermione hugged her husband tightly before planting several kisses on his lips. "There are some days," she whispered, "when I'm very grateful that I married a Slytherin."

Armed with a plan and determined to be as merciless as necessary, Hermione wasted no time the next morning in teaching her father-in-law a lesson in humility. She ambushed him the moment he stepped out of his room, casting a body-bind curse on him. She then levitated him into an empty guest room, where she closed the door and cast a locking charm on it.

Hermione needed privacy for what she was about to undertake. For all that Draco claimed to be on her side, she doubted he would stand idly by as she bullied his father. "This has gone on far too long, Lucius," Hermione explained to him in a steady voice. "In part, it is my fault. I've allowed you to underestimate me. I've permitted you to think that I always play by the rules and that I won't let my anger overcome my judgment. Perhaps if we've had conversed earlier, perhaps if you knew my history, we could have avoided this showdown."

She gave his magically bound and levitating form a slight push until it was pressed against the wall. "Did you know that in my third year, I physically assaulted Draco? He deserved it. He was being a huge prick and I'd had enough of his sanctimonious attitude, so I hit him. I'm sure he never looked at me quite the same again. In my fourth year, I imprisoned Rita Skeeter's Animagus form in a jar until I was satisfied that she and I saw certain issues eye to eye. During my fifth year, I led Dolores Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest and left her at the mercy of the Centaurs. You should already be familiar with my role during the war, but in case you've forgotten, not only did I fight alongside Harry and Ron to kill Death Eaters, but I also single-handedly destroyed part of Voldemort's soul. Of course, that was when I was a teenager. I am now a grown woman with a grown woman's skills and abilities."

Stepping closer to him, Hermione stroked a finger alongside his jaw line. She wondered if Draco would look as proud and haughty when he was Lucius' age. Pursing her lips slightly, she raised her face towards his. "Is that doubt I see in your eyes? Maybe you think this is only a scare tactic, that I don't have the fortitude to follow through with my threats? Or, maybe you think that there is nothing I can do to you that you can't magic away."

Cocking her head, she tried to read the expression in his eyes. "That's it, isn't it?" she smiled. "You don't think I know any way to change your appearance that can't be undone. Silly, silly, man."

If Lucius had not been frozen in place, his eyes would have opened wide when Hermione transfigured an antique snuffbox into a pair of scissors. "Snip, snip," she said, in a light-hearted voice as she slowly spun him around and began to work on his hair.

-0-0-0-

The family sat at the breakfast table waiting for Lucius to appear. Draco kept glancing at his wife, who was wearing a smug smile as she sipped her tea. "Hermione-" he began, but was stunned into silence at the entrance of his father.

Narcissa let out a little shriek and began to rise from her chair. "Mother of Merlin! What has happened to you, darling?"

Holding out a hand to prevent her from getting up, Lucius sat at the table and calmly placed a napkin in his lap. "Nothing has happened to me, dear. I have just been _convinced_ to adopt a new hair style."

Draco's eyes flicked back and forth between his wife and his father.

"But.. but, it's horrible!" Narcissa exclaimed before she could stop herself.

"Really?" Lucius drawled, the look on his face impenetrable. "I've been told that it is the preferred hair style of professional Muggle footballers. It's a Mule-Latte."

"Mullet," Hermione piped up from her end of the table, unable to prevent a satisfied grin from crossing her features.

Inclining his head toward her, Lucius responded, "Yes, thank you. By the way, Hermione, I've signed the papers you left with me this morning."

"Wonderful," Hermione smiled, tucking into her breakfast.

Thirty minutes later, the brown-haired girl slipped into her study to examine the _Magical Contract of Unconditional Surrender_ her father-in-law had signed. The paperwork would make it impossible for Lucius to ever again cast a beauty charm or glamour on her without her explicit consent.

She felt Draco's arms go around her waist, as his nose nuzzled her neck. "So it's over?"

Hermione nodded, snuggling back into his embrace.

"You're happy?"

She nodded again.

"He looks ridiculous."

Hermione turned and clasped her arms around her husband's neck. "All is fair in love and war, Draco. Besides, it will eventually grow out. Or, you can always take him to the Muggle barber in Biddestone for a trim."

"You are an evil witch, Hermione."

Giggling, she brushed her lips against his. "Well, I _am_ a Malfoy, darling." She then shrieked in glee when Draco's arms tightened around her before he caught her lips in a forceful kiss.

TBC

AN: The argument between Draco and Hermione about her giving up with winning – is loosely based on Wilson's plea to Germany and England to end World War I without there being a victor and a loser. Thanks to eme929 for being the beta for this chapter!


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